


Snapshots

by Querel (Rednaelo)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rednaelo/pseuds/Querel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles featuring various pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sugar Taste

She is domestic perfection, standing there with her pretty powder-blue apron on, white frills and the most perfect fucking bow tied right above that round, plump rear of hers.  All that’s missing is the red and white checkered curtains for the kitchen window and a sweet humming song.  Jane probably doesn’t want to sing. 

This is sad baking.  The lovely southern housewife image is lost when you remember that the occasion is in mourning.  Oh, of loves and losses and…stupid Jake English and his dunderhead handsome-face idiocy.  Chief heartbreaker.  Someone should give him a medal.  And then throw a pie in his face.

You hope to god that’s what Jane is working on.  Sweet, cherry, fuck-you pie. 

“Janey….”

She puts down the bowl and turns to smile at you.  It’s one of those smiles that has a broken heart behind it.  Makes the fracture in your own heart splinter a little deeper. 

“Janey, come sit on mah lap, sweetie.”  You pat your knee a couple times and set down your martini down on the counter so it doesn’t get in the way.

“What?  No, I’m making cake right now.”  She’s blushing, trying to refocus on her bowl and the rhythmic circles of stirring.

“Do both.  It’ll be great.”  You snag her hips and pull her right onto your lap.  She whines when there’s a bit of cake batter splashed on her arm but just wipes it right up and goes on with her life in your lap.  You watch for a minute but then nuzzle your nose against the back of her neck.

Jane smells like the gentle tickle of all-purpose flour, dry and plain but homey; the promise of hot, fresh-baked breads and cake and then the tiniest hint of honey from the perfume she wears.  Light and lovely.

“Jane, ya think next time we can make some of those sticky buns or somethin’?” you ask her as your thumb makes little circles on her hip.

“Next time I come over, you mean?”

Right.  Not the next time you both get your hearts stomped into oblivion.

“Mmhmm.”

“Well that sounds peachy and keen to me!”  It’s something she’d say, but it’s not her saying it.  It’s just an echo….

Jane is a bit on the heavier side but that’s only because you have legs like a string bean.  She’s warm, though.  Squishy.  Comfortable.  You just wanna drag her back to your room and have a snuggle party under your blankets.   Girl was adamant, though.  She was going to bake and not you or anything was going to hinder that.

You pout against her and slump forward a little.

“Roxy, this arrangement can only work if you let me sit up straight,” she sighs.

“Screw the arrangement, Crocker,” you grumble.  You pluck the bowl out of her hands and haphazardly drop it next to your martini glass.  She protests; you hold tighter to her.  “Can’t I just…for a little while….”

When Jane sighs again, you can feel it against your cheek, the shrinking of her back against your face.  She shifts and puts her arms around your shoulders. 

“You know I was doing my best,” she says.  Her whisper cracks as it shifts through your hair.  You hold her tighter.

“I know you were.”

When she starts crying, you rock back and forth.  It just sucks.  Everything does.  She’s beautiful and sweet like sugar and deserves the perfect love.  Someone who can treat her like the princess she is.

And fuck if Jake English could. That hope was gone.  You’d surrendered your affections long ago to let Janey have her chance.  Of course, you still nursed your own quiet crush but you love for her runs deeper than you really realized until this very moment.

You love her.  And you want to keep loving her.  And you want her to know that you love her.

“I love you, Roxy.”

There’s a soft surge of warmth that blooms through you like the first sips of vodka on a dry day.  You lean back to look at her face and when you see her tear-streaked cheeks and worried lips, you feel the world has changed.

“Does that mean we can make out?” you asked.  You’ve won because it makes her laugh.

“Oh…I don’t know—”

“Well, neither do I.”

You kiss her.  Just one of those baby kisses because you don’t want to scare her or anything.  God forbid….  Luckily for you, she takes it well.  So you kiss her again and she kisses you back.  You stop counting the kisses after you get to seven because then she opens her mouth just a little and you suck on her bottom lip.  You feel quiet and happy, all wrapped up in a world that’s small and has no darkness, no ache except the tiny pulse in your heart that’s so overwhelmed.

You’ve one arm around her shoulders, the other around her hips as you kiss.  And so it’s very easy to just pick her up, slide your arm under her knees and put her on the counter.  If she had a protest, it didn’t find a voice because you’re between her legs with your hands clasped at the base of her spine.  You’re willing to bet half your liquor cabinet the girl is just made of sugar.  You’ve never tasted anything so sweet.

When you finally pull back, she’s got the most precious pink cheeks that you can’t help but taste little kisses all over her.  It makes her giggle or sigh or just make these cute little noises, all flustered and confused.  You just wanna swaddle her all up and hide her away from everyone.

With your hands held gently on her hips and the perfect aftertaste in your mouth, you smile at her button nose and too-big teeth.

“Janey, I love you more than anythin’.  So be my girlfren’, kay?”

She laughs but her smile is just as wide as it ever has been.  Jane curls her dainty-lady fingers in your blonde curls and tickles them against your cheeks. 

“Tell you what,” she says gently, “if you focus long enough to actually be productive and finish this cake with me, I’ll give you my answer after we put it in the oven, alright?”

You furrow your brow and pout at her a bit.

“Whassat supposed to mean?” you ask.  She giggles again and nudges you away, so you step back.  Baffled, you watch as she reaches under her skirt and slowly slides off her panties before sling-shooting them at you.  They land on your face.  Blue and white stripes.  Warm….

“Get the picture?”  She winks at you and then slips off the counter, taking up the mixing bowl again and casually going back to work.  She walks to the refrigerator shaking her plushrump at you.  You blink a few times. 

Then you wind your prize around your wrist and bounce after her, martini glass forgotten.

That cake isn’t going to end up in the oven, you decide.  You have more interesting uses for that batter….


	2. Distractions

“Because your room is a shithole and I’m sick of trying to ford the river of year-old laundry just to drag your ass out of bed every morning for classes.”

Dave sighed and listlessly flopped his French toast around in a puddle of lukewarm syrup.  It made sticky lines across the paper plate, already turning a bit gray and soggy from the sheer amount of breakfast food-juices that it had been holding.  On the other side of the kitchen, John was haphazardly flinging suds around as he tried to scrub the frying pan back into sparkling submission.

These were the stupid days when Dave couldn’t handle being roommates with John.  But it only happened the mornings after they went out to one of those ridiculous parties that either Eridan or Vriska decided to throw.  Poor John always had the worst hangovers with a side of bitchy.  Dave would’ve offered—as he always did—to give John a break from making those Saturday morning breakfasts; he’d just go swing by McDonalds and load up on burritos.  But no.  Egbert, culinary master, would insist on concocting the morning fare despite his brain-broken state.

Dave was already weighing the benefits of denying himself those wonderful meals in exchange for not being on the end of John’s misdirected grump-rumpus.

“If I clean my room, you have to let me do breakfast next time,” Dave bargained, staring at John intently.  He watched shoulders slump and heard a long breath release.

“Fine, fine….”

“Go take a nap, dude,” Dave said.  He got up from the table and stuck the plate in the fridge.  “I won’t do my music today.”

Dave heard John thank him before he was completely out of earshot.

Dave’s bedroom was hell.  He could open the door one foot before it was stopped by a heap of tangled jeans and t-shirts.  There were wrecked shoes and spiral notebooks with half-ripped pages, tangles of cords, stacked up amps and his turntables alone took up a good portion of the tiny bedroom.  A comfortable chaos, Dave still knew exactly where to find everything he needed.  Sure, there was a bit of upturning involved, but he still knew that his textbooks were nestled somewhere between the towels in the laundry hamper under the window.

He paused , though, a furrow creasing his brow as he realized that he did not, in fact, remember where his earbuds were.  He usually didn’t use them since he had a pair of killer headphones with an auxiliary bass booster built in and that worked just fine for him.  But there was no way he could handle this room without having at least a rhythm to get him going.  And he promised he wouldn’t make any noise to disturb John.  Last thing he needed was that rabid buck-toothed hangover fury aimed at him.

Search first, clean later.  At least he still knew where his mp3 player was.  Dave shut his door and shuffled through the debris to reach the pile behind his bed; he knew he’d half-consciously chucked his jeans there the night before. 

Karkat was snuggled into a nest of discarded clothes, clutching Dave’s favorite hoodie to his face so that only his gently closed eyes and the tip of his button nose could be seen.  Dave stared down at the sight and took a decent amount of time trying to figure out how the fuck Karkat had gotten into his room.  And when.  All the while, Karkat slept there, breathing steadily.  Dave decided he didn’t care how and he also didn’t care about finding his iPod anymore.

He sunk down to his knees and carefully nestled himself around Karkat’s body, a bit awkward with figuring out where his arms would go but eventually just tucking them tight against Karkat’s chest. The boy smelled like alcohol sweat and floor-laundry and then that fucking pretentious douchebag shampoo that Eridan used which Karkat secretly liked and frequently stole.  Dave only knew that last bit because of inside intel (Terezi’s mad senses and whatnot).   When Karkat wore that scent, though, it was different.  Better.

That heap of clothes wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but Dave couldn’t see himself moving anytime soon.  Honestly, he didn’t know when he’d find an opportunity like this next.  What with the way things were going between him and his eternally stressed-out crabapple buddy here, Dave couldn’t see himself coppin’ any good feels for a while.  Tensions were tightening.  Fuck if a bro just wanted to get his cuddle on.  It had to be all this existential relationship bullshit with scary words like ‘commitment’ and ‘long-term.’

Not that Dave was actually scared of them.  But they were only at this boyfriend thing for what, two months?  That’s what he got for trying to date his spazzoid other-best-friend.

Didn’t change the fact that he was happier than ever.

“You found me….”

Dave opened his eyes and pressed a little kiss to the back of Karkat’s neck.

“Thought I wouldn’t?

“Not until I went home,” Karkat grumbled.  He arched his back for a moment, letting out a groaning exhale before settling right back into Dave’s arms. 

“Snuck in?”

“You asshats never lock your front door.”

“Bad habit.”

Karkat’s clawed digits curled gently around Dave’s, one fingertip circling listlessly about the soft flesh at the back of Dave’s hand.

“Why didn’t you just—”

“I can’t sleep on human beds.  They feel wrong.”

“But a lump of dirty laundry is just Nirvana.”

“Eat it, Strider.  It’s good enough.”

Dave took one of his hands and pushed his fingers through the hair at the back of Katkat’s head, pressing his nose into the wiry locks and inhaling gently.  Karkat let out a soft, shuddering sigh, unconsciously burrowing his body into Dave’s.

“You looked so small,” Dave whispered against the shell of Karkat’s ear.  “Curled up and tiny in the dark.  Like a kitten.”

“Your point?” came the answering grumble.

“Well, look at me now.  I’m spooning you so hard you might as well tuck us in the silverware drawer.”  Dave could feel Karkat’s ear heat up against his lips.  He repressed a smile.

“I wanted to tell you,” Karkat said quietly after a few moments of safe silence and a couple more kisses, “that I’m sorry you have to put up with my recurring panic attacks.”

“You think I didn’t know what I signed up for?  I’ve watched you be an overactive hissy fit on two legs the entire time I’ve known you.”

“And yet….”

“Don’t sell yourself short.  That ultra-precious plushrump you’ve got helps counterbalance any of your insane outbursts.”

“Thanks, dick.”

“Just the truth, sweetcheeks.  You can take what you like from it.”

Karkat squirmed until he’d turned around in Dave’s arms and was nose-to-nose with him.  One pair of red eyes stared right back into another and Karkat felt something ease in the pit of his stomach.  A soothing comfort like being enveloped by sopor slime or getting a horn-rub after a day of endless stresses.  Slowly, Karkat tilted his head and kissed Dave’s bottom lip.

The blond boy chuckled when he felt the gentle blunts of Karkat’s fangs nibbling at him.  Since the first time they kissed, Karkat had such an affinity for giving his lips those little love bites.  Dave didn’t ever point it out because of course Karkat would feel self-conscious about it and stop.  And it was just too cute to let cease.

So Dave held his precious boy closer and bumped their noses together, trying not to let show how he loved those kittenish kissing noises Karkat kept making.  He curled his fingers in the warm fabric of Karkat’s sweater and let his eyes close, thinking that he would save cleaning his room for later, when the piles on the floor were less necessary.


	3. Blood and Cream

He’s the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.  I would know; I have the best taste in people.  Literally.  Though I’ve been a good boy recently.  Rosie-Posy tells me it’s not good to eat people all the time; it’s bad for my health.  And she knows best.  She knows everything.

But anyway, this new boy.  He’s probably my favorite.  I mean, I have my best forever friends, but he is something special.  I met him last night on the playground.  I was swinging on the swings, listening to the thunder and trying to fly as high as I could.  And I was singing my song.  It doesn’t have words, but it’s my song and I like it a lot.  It’s good for swinging alone on playgrounds because I can sing it as loud as I want to.

Well, I was singing and swinging, and then I saw him.  He was sitting in a tree.  Like, really high up.  So high, that I couldn’t even see him unless I swung up super high myself.  When I saw him the first time, it spooked me so bad, I stopped in the middle of my song.  He was staring right at me.  But it’s not like I screamed or anything.  I jumped out of the swing and flew to him.

I landed on the branch he was sitting on and gave him my happiest smile.  He had skin the color of whipped cream and candy corn all in his pink hair and a wide grin full of sharp, little teeth.  Love at first sight, I think.  Looking at him made me feel like there was magic in my insides.  Warm and tickling.

“You fly,” he said to me.  He giggled.  It was so cute.  So I laughed back.

“Yeah, I do!” I said.  “What’s your name?”  He buried his face in his long-long sleeves, trying to hide his cheeks but I still managed to hear him.

“Karkat,” he mumbed.  He was smiling; I could tell.  I reached out and pushed away his arms so I could see his smiling face again.  It really was the cutest and his cheeks were all flushed.  I decided right then I would kiss him…but later. 

“I’m John,” I told him, “you wanna play with me?”

“I would love that.”

We played on the playground all night and even though the thunder kept coming, there was never any rain. It was like the sky was giving us music. 

“I live with a lot of other friends in a really big hive,” he was telling me as we sat on top of the jungle gym and threw stones into the fountain.

“Are you guys bees?” I asked him.

“No, not bees, dumbass,” he said, and wrinkled his nose at me.  I laughed.  “It’s just where we live.”

“Hives are for bugs.”

“We _can_ grow wings.”

“No way!”

“Uh-huh.  And then, when I get mine, I can fly like you can.”

“We can fly together now if you want.”  I didn’t give him time to tell me no.  I wrapped my arms around him and took off into the sky.  When he cried out, it turned into laughter.  He dug his sharp nails into my clothes and my skin and then bent all the way backwards in my arms with his hands reaching out towards the ground as I twirled us.

“Are you scared?” I yelled over the wind and his giggles.

“Only if you drop me!” he yelled back.  The thunder growled and I had a wicked idea.

I did drop him.  But only a little.  He fell—screaming—and his long sleeves fluttered in the air like streamers before I swooped down and saved him again.

Karkat’s arms were so tight around my neck I thought I was going to be strangled.

“Wasn’t it fun?” I whispered into his ear.

“You scared me.” he said.  His knees curled up and pressed against my side and I floated us over to the roof of the bathroom stalls where I could put him down.  But he wouldn’t let go.

“Sometimes scary things can be fun!” I told him, wrapping myself all around him.  He was tiny and shaking and I kept hearing him hiccup and wibble.

I decided that I would just keep hugging him until he calmed down.  When he did, he pushed away from me and gave me the biggest frown I’d ever seen.  But on his face, it looked kinda stupid, so I laughed at him. 

“Are you mad at me?”

“Yes.”

And before I realized it, I was on my back because he’d pushed me down.  My hands were up over my head and they hurt really bad.  When I tried to move them, I couldn’t; it only made them hurt worse. 

“Karkat, what did you— ”  I stopped talking because when I looked into his eyes, they weren’t sweet and cute anymore.  His eyes were mean and angry.  Really angry.  Like the kind that I couldn’t laugh at but the kind that made my stomach all twisted and weird.

“You let go of me even though I told you it scared me,” he whispered, holding up what looked like a knife only it was curved like the moon.  He pointed the tip under my chin and showed off his teeth.  They looked a lot sharper than they were before.  “I don’t like it.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” I told him.  And I really was.  “I just thought maybe I could show you how fun it was.  I didn’t want to make you mad.  I can make it better.”

He didn’t say anything, but he definitely didn’t look like he believed me.

“Promise, I can,” I told him.  “Just come here.”

He didn’t really look like wanted to give me another chance but he took the knife away from my throat and leaned in.

“Closer,” I said.  When he huffed in frustration, I could feel it on my lips.  I kept telling him to come closer until our noses were almost touching.  I could see everything about his face: the places where his skin went from that pale to the red of his cheeks and the tip of his nose and the wet trails from where tears had slipped out.  And then I did it.

He had thin, dry lips and his teeth were kind of in the way, but I gave him kisses.  If he didn’t like them, I sure didn’t know because he didn’t do much of anything except stay put.  I counted up to six of them before I rested my head once again and smiled at him.

Karkat’s face was stuck in this funny expression; I laughed and then pulled at my hands again.  It may have hurt a whole lot and when I pulled the other knife out of them, I got blood all over my clothes.  But then I could wrap my arms around Karkat and hold him close as I kissed him some more.

The next time, he kissed me back and made noises like a kitty.  Purring noises and happy sighs and after the first few, he started giving me love bites.  They didn’t hurt and I liked them a lot so I gave him some back.  He told me my teeth were stupidly blunt.  I stuck my tongue out at him.  And then so did he. 

The next time we kissed, I touched my tongue to his.  Let it push into his mouth and feel the scrape of his kitten-teeth.  His arms around my middle were tight and he sat straight up on my lap so I could draw my fingers all the way down his spine.  He had a taste like candy, like he could be hiding star dust under his tongue.  I couldn’t get enough of it.

My heart was beating so fast when we finally stopped—it took a long while.  I couldn’t do anything but smile as hard as I could at him.  So hard, my face hurt. 

“Ow….” I rubbed at my cheeks.  He laughed at me again.

“You got blood on your face,” he said, leaning in again.  I felt the hot swipe of his tongue across my cheek and it just made my insides bubble up and spill out as giggles.  I felt dizzy and the thunder made stars bloom in my head.

“Karkat?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to be your friend forever because I think I love you.  Is that okay?” I reached up and tickled his horns, making his face turn red.

“As long as that means,” he said, looking me right in the eyes, “you can never leave me.”  When he smiled at me again, his eyes flashed red all over, and had this weird pattern of black veining.  His teeth got sharp again.  But it was still cute.


End file.
